He was uncomfortable lying, and he took a quick look at the Old Breed Sergeant from the 4th Marines to see if he had any reaction to his change of destination; Sergeant Everly had heard him tell the motor officer they were headed for Orion. Morong, a small port on the South China Sea, was on the opposite side of the Bataan Peninsula.
Everly's face was expressionless.
"You've got coordinates?" the Captain asked.
Weston forced himself to smile.
" 'Two hundred paces due east from an overturned and burned ton-and-a-half,' " he said, " 'three point seven miles from Morong.' "
"There's more than one burned and overturned ton-and-a-half truck on that road," the Captain said.
"Ours not to reason why," Weston said with a smile. "Ours but to..."
"Happy hunting," the Captain said, waving them through the gate.
There was no traffic headed toward Subic Bay. Weston started walking along the side of the road, remembering when he used to hitchhike in high school and college; he could never understand then-or now-why hitchhik-ers walked along the road.
There's no way you could walk even a couple miles to where you're headed, so why walk at all? Just wait for a ride.
Everly walked behind him, keeping up with him easily, despite all the equipment he was carrying. Weston decided he would at least walk out of sight of Mariveles before talking to the sergeant. And then when they were out of sight, he decided he would walk a little farther.
He intended to order the sergeant to go back to The Rock, carrying a mean-ingless message to Major Paulson.
He had just about decided they had gone far enough-being defined as far enough away from Mariveles that if the sergeant became suspicious and said something to the MPs at the gate, he would have twenty minutes or so to find a side road and disappear down it-when the sergeant reported a truck was ap-proaching.
It was a flatbed Ford, driven by an Army corporal. The name of a Manila furniture dealer could still be read under a hastily applied coat of olive-drab paint.
A PFC riding in the cab stepped out and gave Weston his seat, and then climbed in back with Everly. The truck was loaded with bales of empty sand-bags, and the driver told him he was headed for a Philippine artillery battalion, then asked him where he was headed.
"I'm looking for a burned and rolled-over ton-and-a-half," Weston re-plied. "There's supposed to be some stuff cached nearby."
"I was up here this morning," the driver said. "There's a bunch of trucks turned over and burned. How are you going to know which one?"
"I suppose I'll have to check them all out and hope I get lucky," Weston replied.
Fifteen minutes later, on a sharp bend on a deserted stretch of road, the driver slowed and stopped, and pointed out Weston's window. The fire-blacked wheels and underside of an overturned truck were just visible thirty yards off the road, at the bottom of a ditch.
"I guess he missed the turn," the driver said. "At night, no lights, these roads are dangerous as hell."
"Might as well start here, I suppose. Thanks for the ride." The sergeant was standing by the side of the road looking at Weston by the time Weston got out of the cab.
Weston walked to the side of the road and, nearly falling, slid down into the ditch. After a moment, as if making up his mind whether or not to do so, Everly slid down after him.
Weston pretended to examine the truck, and then walked down the ditch a hundred feet or so. Everly watched him but did not follow. Weston walked back to him.
"Obviously, this isn't the truck," he said. Everly said nothing.
"I've been thinking, Sergeant," Weston said, wondering if he sounded as artificial as he felt. "We better get word to Major Paulson that chances are we aren't going to find the truck at all." Everly didn't reply.
"Tell him, of course, that I'll keep looking," Weston said. "Could I see that Thompson a minute, please, Sir?" Everly asked. It was not the response Weston expected. And without really thinking what he was doing, he unslung the submachine gun from his shoulder and handed it to Everly. Everly unslung his Springfield '03 and handed it to Weston.
"Sergeant, what are you doing?" Weston asked.
"Lieutenant, I'm trying to figure out what to do about you," Everly said.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not going back to The Rock, Mr. Weston," Everly said. "I made up my mind about that a couple of days ago. If I ever got off The Rock, I wouldn't go back."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't really know. Get off Bataan somehow. Go to one of the other islands. Mindanao, probably."
Weston didn't know what to say.
"And I decided I'm going to need this more than you do," Everly added, shrugging the shoulder from which the Thompson was suspended. "Would you give me the extra magazines, please?"
"What do you think you're going to do, even if you make it to Min-danao?"
"I'm not the only one who's decided he doesn't want to surrender," Ev-erly said. "Maybe I can link up with some of the others."
"And do what?"
"I don't know. Maybe do something about the Japs, maybe try to get out of the Philippines. The only thing I know for sure is that I'm not going to find myself a prisoner."
Their eyes met.
"You sure you know what you're doing?"
"The only thing I know for sure," Everly repeated, "is that I'm not going to find myself a prisoner. I seen what the Japs do to their prisoners."
"The reason I was sending you back to The Rock," Weston said, slowly, "is that I had reached much the same conclusion."
"I figured maybe that was it when I heard you bullshit them officers," Everly said.
"I'm a pilot," Weston said. "If I can get to Australia, I can do some good. I'm not doing anybody any good here."
Everly nodded but did not reply.
"Do you have any idea how we can get from here to Mindanao?" Weston asked.
Everly shook his head slowly from side to side. "Except that we're going to need a boat," he said.
"Do you have any idea where we can get a boat?"
Everly shook his head again.
Weston smiled.
"Well, we'll think of something," he said, and held out Everly's Springfield to him. With the other hand, he prepared to take his Thompson back.
"You ever fire a Thompson much, Mr. Weston?"
"Only in Basic Officers' Course," Weston replied. "For familiariza-tion."
"I got a Thompson Expert Bar," Everly said. "Maybe I better keep it." The Expert Bar is one of the specific weapon bars (the others being pistol, rifle, et cetera) attached to the Expert Marksman's Medal.
That's not a suggestion, Weston realized, nor even a request. It is an an-nouncement that he has taken over the Thompson.
"If you think that's the smart thing to do, it's all right with me," Weston said, and handed Everly the two spare magazines Major Paulson had given him.
Did I do that because it was the logical thing to do ? Or because there is something about this man that frightens me? And I didn't want to-have the balls to-challenge him ?
"The way I figure it, we're maybe nine, ten miles from Morong," Ev-erly said. "I don't think it would be smart going into Morong looking for a boat. But maybe we could find something a little out of town, maybe a mile or so. Either side of Morong. There's little coves, or whatever they're called."